The Closet
by GrumpyMagrat
Summary: Did you ever wonder about Sam's comment in the very first episode? Just what was in his closet at the age of nine? This is our take on it.


The Closet

The Closet

By: GrumpyMagrat and Magratconvert

Disclaimer: We hold not rights to any character from Supernatural and are not making any money from this venture.

Nine year old Sam was bouncing on the bed when his big brother, Dean, walked into the room. "You'd better not let Dad catch you jumping on the bed like that. He'll have your butt. The furniture is part of the rent, you know."

Sam quit jumping and sat on the edge of the bed. "This is a great new house, isn't it?"

Dean shrugged. "A house is a house. It's no big deal."

"But we finally get our own rooms," Sam excitedly replied.

His brother rolled his eyes. "We've had separate rooms before."

Sam shook his head. "I only remember one time, and we only stayed there for a week."

"Well, don't count on us staying here too long," Dean said.

Sam looked crestfallen at Dean's statement. "But Dad said we would. He said we could go to school in the fall."

Dean rolled his eyes again. He couldn't believe that Sam found this all exciting. "Who cares about school? We've been to schools before, and when we're not, someone home schools us, whether it's Dad, Bobby, or Father Jim."

Sam stuck his lip out in a pout. "But Dad said we'll be here for maybe the whole year. We can make friends. You could even play sports."

Dean shook his head. "The only sport I want to learn is how to hunt like Dad. Maybe he'll take me on a hunt soon. Besides, we _can't_ have friends. It's too dangerous. What'll you say if someone asks what Dad does, or what happened to Mom? Have you ever thought about that?"

Sam gave Dean an innocent look. "I'll tell them the truth. Mom died when I was a baby, and Dad's work is secret, and I can't talk about it."

Dean laughed out loud. "Oh, yeah, you'll make a lot of friends with that story. They'll think you're nuts."

His brother's laughter caused Sam to get mad. "Get out of my room!"

Dean continued to laugh. "Don't get your panties in a wad. I just came in to tell you that it's bedtime."

"You're not my boss," Sam snapped and turned his head to look out the window.

"I am when Dad is away," Dean replied in his typical bossy teenage tone.

Sam looked back in alarm. "Where'd he go?"

"Don't worry," Dean replied. "He just went to the store."

Dean wasn't surprised that his little brother was confused. "This late?" he asked.

Dean laughed again. "That's one of the perks of being in a big city. The stores stay open a lot later."

Sam had been asleep for a couple of hours when he was pulled from his dreams by a voice calling his name. "Sa-am-my." He sleepily opened his eyes and looked around for the source of the voice. He did not see anything. So, he snuggled back into the pillow, writing off the voice as part of his dream. A few minutes after he had closed his eyes, he heard the voice again. "Sa-am-my." This time he was sure that it wasn't part of a dream. It was a gruff but sing-songy voice that sounded like it came from the closet. He sat up in the bed. "Who's there?" He demanded.

The voice from the closet returned again. "Sa-am-my, come play with me."

"Dean, is that you?" Sam asked. "Are you trying to scare me? I don't think it's funny." He didn't get a response from the closet. "I know it's you," he continued. "You might as well come out."

Sam jumped when there was a knock on the door. Dean, who was in his pajamas, poked his head in and asked. "Sam? Are you okay?"

"Dean, how'd you get out of the closet?" Sam asked in confusion.

"The closet?" Dean questioned. "What are you talking about?"

"Someone was calling my name from the closet," his little brother answered. "I thought it was you."

Dean shook his head. "You were dreaming."

"No, I was awake," Sam argued.

Dean smiled. "It just felt like you were awake, but you weren't. It was nothing. Go back to sleep."

"Will you check the closet?" Sam asked.

Dean sighed as he flipped the light on and crossed to the closet. He looked in and pushed the clothes to the side. "Nope, no one's in here. Like I said, it was just a dream. Now, lie down and go to sleep."

Sam lay back down. "Dean, is Dad back yet?"

Dean nodded. "He's been back for a while. He's sleeping in front of the TV. Now, go back to sleep before we _both_ get in trouble."

"Okay, good night, Dean," Sam replied.

"Night, Sammy," Dean said as he turned off the light and left the room.

Sam listened carefully in the once again darkened room and waited for the voice to return. It never did, and Sam eventually fell back asleep.

Two mornings later, Dean rolled over and found Sam in the bed with him. "Sammy?" He shook Sam awake. "What are you doing here?"

He blinked as he woke up. "Dean?"

"Yeah, it's me," he answered. "I asked a question. Why are you in my bed?"

Sam sat up. "I heard the voice again."

Dean sighed. "I told you, you were dreaming."

"But I heard it last night too," Sam replied. "How can that be a dream?"

Dean thought for a moment. "A lot of people say they have the same dream more than once. It's just what's stuck in your head when you go to sleep. There's nothing to worry about."

"But it scares me, Dean," Sam admitted.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Kids," he thought to himself, but to Sam he said. "You can't keep running to me when you're scared. You need to handle it."

"Can you help me look in my closet?" little Sammy asked.

Dean shook his head. "I already checked your closet. Remember? That first night?"

"I know," Sam replied with a sigh. "But couldn't you check again? Please?"

"All right," he answered. "We'll do it after breakfast. Come on."

Sam followed Dean down the hall and into the kitchen.

A little over an hour later, the boys were back in Sam's room. Dean slid the hanging clothes along the rod, patting them as he went along. "See, there's nothing hiding in your clean clothes." Using his foot, he scattered the pile of dirty clothes across the floor of the closet. "And with the exception that you need to put your dirty clothes in the laundry, there's nothing here on the floor."

"What about the shelf?" Sam asked.

Dean glanced at the shelf that was just above his head. He stood on his tip-toes, but couldn't get a good look. "I'll need something to stand on."

Sam dragged the desk chair over to the closet. Dean climbed on it. "Hello…what's this?" He reached to the back corner of the shelf.

"What? What is it?" Sam wanted to know.

"Well, it looks like your little lost…" Dean waved a stuffed animal in Sam's face. "Teddy bear!" He announced triumphantly.

Sam's face reddened. He hated it when Dean treated him like a little kid. "That's not mine!"

Dean laughed. It was so easy to get a rise out of Sam. "Yeah, right, you've been hiding it in the bottom of your bag."

"No, I didn't," Sam argued. "I don't have a teddy bear. I'm not a little kid."

Dean decided to be nice and let Sam off the hook. "I'm just yanking your chain, Sammy. It was probably left from the people before us. Look, it's got one of those pull cords. I'll bet that's what you were hearing."

"But I didn't pull the cord," Sam pointed out.

Dean shrugged. "Maybe it's broken, just going off whenever." He pulled the cord, but the bear only put out a short garbled noise. "See, it is broken."

Sam shook his head. "That's not what I heard."

"Come on, Sammy," Dean said slightly exasperated. "You were asleep, and you heard a noise. Your mind is just playing with you."

Sam reacted with his own exasperation. "Fine, if you're so sure, why don't you sleep in here with me tonight? See what you hear."

Dean sighed. "Okay, if it'll get over this snit of yours, I will."

The night passed uneventful. There were no noises of any kind from the closet. Of course, Dean wasn't too surprised since he had tossed the teddy bear in the trash.

When Sam woke up, he found Dean sitting at the end of the bed grinning at him. "So, did you have a good night's sleep? Any voices?"

Sam shook his head. He really hated to admit that Dean was right because he was so sure that the voice he heard could _not_ have been that bear. He sighed heavily and admitted. "No, I didn't hear the voice. I guess you were right."

Dean laughed. "See; always listen to your big brother."

Sam rolled his eyes and threw his pillow at Dean. Dean laughed even harder as he ducked the pillow. "Come on. Let's go to breakfast."

On their way down the hall, John pulled Dean aside. "What's going on, Dean?"

Dean gave his dad a confused look. "We're going for breakfast."

John shook his head. "I mean about the sleeping arrangements. Yesterday, Sam woke up in your room, and now this morning, you're in his. Is there something I should know about?"

Dean shook his head. "No, Sam was having a hard time getting used of his new room, but I think he'll be okay now."

"Are you sure?" John asked. "Maybe, I should talk to him."

Dean shook his head. "Nah, I think that will just embarrass him."

"Okay," John replied. "Thanks for handling Sam. I'm glad I can count on you."

Dean blushed. "That's my job, taking care of my little brother."

The next three nights went by uneventful, but on the fourth night, Dean was woken up by Sammy jumping on his bed.

"Dean! Dean, wake up!" Sam was in a near panic. "It's back. I heard the voice again."

Dean rolled over and sleepily mumbled, "You're dreaming again."

Sam tugged on Dean's arm. "I am not! I heard it. It called my name."

"Look, Sam," Dean responded grumpily. "We searched your closet, and I got rid of the broken bear. I spent the night in your room and heard nothing. It's just your imagination. Now, suck it up and go back to bed before we both get in trouble."

"What's going on in here, boys?" Their father's voice came from Dean's open doorway.

"Too late," he muttered under his breath. He glanced over to Sam waiting for him to explain, but Sam had his head bowed, and it looked like he was fighting tears.

"I'm waiting," John said impatiently.

"Sam thinks there's something in his closet, and it's calling his name," Dean volunteered. "He's scared."

John crossed his arms. "Maybe there is. Have you checked his closet?"

"Of course I did," Dean replied indignantly. "I even spent the night in his room to see if I could hear anything. I didn't."

"Come on, Sam," John said, holding an arm out to Sam. "Let's go double check your closet." He placed his hand on Sam's shoulder and guided him back to his room. Dean followed behind the pair.

John opened the closet door and looked in. He shifted the hanging clothes and only saw the back wall. There was nothing on the top shelf. On the floor lay a football, a stack of books, two pairs of tennis shoes, a pair of work boots, and the pile of dirty clothes. John kicked at the pile, but nothing crawled out of it.

John turned to his son. "I don't see anything. Do you, Sammy?"

Sam looked around his dad and into the closet. He saw the same things that John did. He looked up at his father and shook his head.

John saw Dean looking over Sam's shoulder. "What about you, Dean?"

"No, sir," Dean answered.

"Good," John replied as he closed the closet door. "Then let's get back to bed."

What none of them noticed was the small brown arm that was just barely visible in the pile of dirty clothes.

Sam climbed into his bed but still eyed the closet door warily. "But what if…" He lowered his eyes and didn't finish the question.

"What if, what?" John asked.

Sam looked up at his father, unsure of how to voice his concerns. "What if it's like those things you hunt? Invisible or something…"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Sam, it's not…"

"No, Dean," John interrupted. "He's right. We don't know what we're dealing with. So, there's only one thing to do." He left the room and returned with a .45. He handed the gun to Sam. "If you're afraid that there's really something in your closet, you need to take control. Consider this your first hunt."

"Dad?" Dean questioned with a touch of irritation in his voice. A first hunt? Dean hadn't even been on his first hunt yet. Plus, his dad had spent quite a bit of time on gun safety before he was allowed to handle a gun, but here was Dad, giving Sam a gun with no kind of instruction at all.

"Come on, Dean," John said. "Let's let Sammy get some sleep."

Sam held the gun with an unsure look on his face. "I've never shot a gun before."

John shrugged. "You just point and shoot."

"Dad!" Dean exclaimed. He couldn't believe that his father was being so cavalier about this.

John gently steered Dean out of Sam's room. Once they were down the hall a bit, Dean turned to his dad. "I can't believe you gave Sam a gun. What about safety? What about 'respect for the gun and the power that it wields' that you preached to me before I got to handle a gun? Was that all a crock? What if he tries to shoot one of us?"

John laughed and put an arm around his son's shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. "Relax, Dean, I didn't give him a loaded weapon."

Dean gave John a confused look. "I don't get it."

John began to explain. "It hasn't been that long since your brother found out what I really did. For some reason, his subconscious created an enemy that needs to be hunted. Maybe it's a bid for my attention. No matter what is causing it, I'm hoping that if he thinks he has my gun that he'll feel safe and won't dream up this 'voice' thing."

Dean nodded. "Makes sense. I hope it works. Good night, Dad." Dean entered his own bedroom as John headed to the living room to watch a little TV.

Dean tossed and turned in his bed. He couldn't help but worry about Sam.

The next night Sam fell into a light sleep with the feel of the gun under his pillow. Sure enough, three hours later he was woken by the voice calling him. "Saaa-mmmy, come plaaay with me."

Sam bolted upright in the bed. He heard the voice call again. "Please, Saaa-mmmy, I'm sooo lonely."

Sam reached under his pillow and grabbed the gun. He quietly crept across the room. He quickly opened the closet door and raised the gun. It shook despite the fact that he gripped it with both hands. He was shocked to see the teddy bear that Dean had thrown out was sitting on top of his pile of dirty clothes. "What in the world? How did that…"

The voice from the bear interrupted his muttering. "Awww, Sammy, you wouldn't shoot me, would you?"

Sam looked dumbfounded. "What are you?"

"I just want a friend to play with," the bear replied. "Will you be my friend?"

Sam lowered the gun. "I don't know if I should. My dad…"

"Don't worry about your dad," Teddy told him. "Adults just don't understand about toys."

"Are you saying that toys are alive?" Sam questioned. "I'm not that dumb."

The bear's head moved side to side. "Not all toys, just those who are truly loved by a child."

Sam sat down on the floor in front of the bear. He thought about it. Hadn't he heard a story about a toy that came alive? A rabbit, or something? Maybe that wasn't just a story. "I don't understand. Who loved you so much?"

"My owner," Teddy answered. "His name was Andy."

"What happened to him?" Sam wanted to know.

The bear looked sad. "I don't know. One day he was gone."

Sam felt sorry for the bear. "Maybe they moved away, and he accidentally left you behind."

Teddy sighed. "All I know is I was left alone, and I've been searching for a friend ever since. Will you please be my friend?"

"If I can't talk to Dad, maybe I should talk to Dean," he suggested.

"Please don't," Teddy begged. "He doesn't like me. He'll try to throw me out again."

Sam shook his head. "He just didn't know you were alive. If you explain to him what you told me, he won't do it again."

Teddy bowed his head. "I don't trust him. He reminds me of Andy's older brother, Stevie. He didn't like me either."

Sam thought for a moment. "By the way, how'd you get back in here after Dean threw you out?"

Teddy shrugged. "I walked in. This is my home, at least till I find a new friend."

Sam got up off the floor. "Okay, I'll be your friend. We can play tomorrow, but right now I want to go to sleep."

"Can I sleep with you?" Teddy asked. Seeing the indecision on Sam's face, he pleaded. "Please, I'll be quiet. I promise."

"All right," Sam relented as he picked up the bear. "But you have to promise to hide under the blankets if Dad or Dean come in."

"You got it, dude," Teddy replied with a wink.

Dean finally started to relax. It had been a week since their father had given Sam the gun. Since then, he had not complained about hearing voices and was spending more time alone in his room. His father was right. Just thinking he had a loaded weapon was enough to calm Sam down.

Sam sat on his bed with a book open in front of him. Teddy crawled out from under the bed. "What are you doing, Sammy?"

"I'm reading," Sam answered.

"I want to play," Teddy said. "Can we play now?"

Sam shook his head. "Give me a few minutes. I'm almost done with the book. I think I know who stole the brass statue. I just don't know why."

"Please hurry, I'm bored," Teddy replied sadly.

About twenty minutes, Sam closed the book with a sigh. Teddy looked at him and asked, "Was it who you thought it was?"

Sam shook his head. "No, it was the guy's brother. He was jealous of him. So, he stole the statue and left clues making his brother look guilty. He wanted him arrested."

Teddy frowned. "You can't trust brothers."

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. Dean's not so bad."

"Yeah, right," Teddy huffed. "That may have been true at one point, but think about it. He's been spending all his time with your dad."

"That's cuz Dad is teaching him how to hunt," Sam defended Dean.

Teddy frowned. "Oh, it has nothing to do with hunting. He's jealous of you. He wants your dad all for himself."

"That doesn't make any sense." Sam had a confused look of his face. "Why would Dean be jealous of me?"

Teddy rolled his eyes. "Think about it, Sammy. What does your dad tell him when he leaves?' Teddy answered his own question. "He always tells him to take care of you. Dean doesn't like that. He hates you for that."

Sam shook his head. "Dean doesn't hate me. Besides, how do you know what my dad says?"

"I hear him," Teddy answered. "He says it every time he leaves the house, whether it's to go to the grocery store, to do a job, or just to get the paper."

"But that doesn't mean Dean hates me," Sam continued to argue.

"How about we put him to a test?" Teddy suggested.

"What kind of test?" he asked.

"You could pull a prank on him," Teddy suggested. "His reaction would show his true feeling for you."

Sam hesitated a bit. "I don't know."

"Oh, come on," Teddy cajoled. "It's not like he's going to get hurt."

Sam sighed. "Are you sure? I mean totally, one hundred percent positive?"

Teddy laughed. "Unless you know of a way to get hurt on corn flakes."

Sam gave teddy a confused look. "Corn flakes?"

"Yeah, corn flakes," Teddy continued laughing. "The prank I was talking about was simply putting corn flakes in his bed. No big deal."

Sam looked thoughtful for a moment. "I guess that wouldn't be so bad."

"And you could prove to me that Dean's a good guy," Teddy gently pushed.

"All right," Sam finally acquiesced. "Dad's taking Dean out somewhere for some 'general instruction' later tonight. That's when I'll set it up."

"That'll be good," Teddy smiled. "Tonight, one way or the other, we'll know."

Sam shook his head. "_You'll_ know. I already know that Dean can be trusted."

"Well, let's play then," Teddy told Sam, but in his mind, he thought. "Once I'm done with your brother, you won't think he's so trustworthy."

Dean plopped into the chair at his desk. He couldn't remember feeling this tired. Plus, his shoulders and back were loudly protesting the strenuous workout he had put them through. His father had taken him out to an empty field and gave him instructions on how to quickly but efficiently dig a grace in the dark. He had always thought that he was in good shape, but the digging obviously used his muscles in ways that they weren't used to. Dean looked at his bed and sighed. He was debating whether or not to take a shower before climbing into bed. He was so sweaty and dirty that if he didn't take a shower, he would probably have to wash the sheets in the morning, but he was so tired. It would almost be worth it to just climb into bed right now…almost. Instead, he grabbed a pair of clean boxer shorts and forced himself towards the door. He knew that he would be glad in the morning for not having the extra work.

Dean returned to his room a half hour later. He had to admit, he did feel better. The warm spray of the water had loosened some of his tight muscles. He turned off the bedroom light and made his way to his bed in the dark. In one fluid motion, he pulled back the blanket and threw himself into the bed. It only took a second for his brain to register the prickliness against his back and legs. He leaped out of bed and dashed across the room while brushing at his legs. He flipped the light on and took in the corn flakes that occupied his bed and trailed after him. He recognized the childishness of the prank.

"Damn him," Dean muttered as he stormed out of the room. He threw the door to Sam's room open with a loud slam. "You little brat!" he growled.

Sam, just having woke up with the slamming door, shook his head trying to clear the fog of confusion from his head. "Dean?"

Dean quickly crossed the room and grabbed Sam by the arm. "Come on. You made the mess. _You_ clean it up."

The sleep finally cleared from Sam's brain, and he understood what Dean was upset about. So, he didn't say anything as his brother dragged him from his bed.

John, however, did not know what was going on between his sons. He only heard the slamming of the door and Dean's angry voice. Now he stood in Sam's doorway with his arms crossed and demanded, "What is going on, here?"

Dean jumped slightly at the sound of his father's voice. He turned and explained, "Sam put corn flakes in my bed."

John raised an eyebrow in surprise. It was unusual for Sam to instigate a prank. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing!" Dean declared indignantly. "It's him that started it."

John's mouth twitched as he fought the laughter that was building in him. Turning to Sam, he asked, "Is that true? You pulled a prank on your brother?"

Sam looked down and shuffled his feet slightly. "Yes, sir," he whispered just loud enough for his dad to hear him.

"Well, then I guess you'd better go clean it up," John told him.

Once Sam had left his room and headed to Dean's, John began to laugh out loud.

Dean shot him a disgusted look. "I don't see what's so funny."

John placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Oh come on, Dean. Give him a break. You've played plenty of pranks on him. You can't expect him not to have picked up a few tricks. So, he finally got in the first punch. To tell you the truth, I'm surprised that it didn't happen sooner."

Dean's anger seemed to ebb. "Yeah, I guess, but I'm tired, and I just don't feel like dealing with it right now."

John laughed out loud again. "And we all know how cranky you can be when you're tired."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Ha, ha."

"Come on," John replied. "Let's help Sam so you can get to bed. Besides, I'm sure that you'll get your revenge."

Dean gave his father a quizzical look. "You won't get mad if I prank him back?"

"As long as it doesn't get out of hand and no one gets hurt," John answered.

Dean grinned as he thought about what to pull on Sam.

Sam climbed back into his own bed after changing the sheets on Dean's bed. He was a little surprised that his father didn't lecture him more about the prank when he and Dean helped him finish making his brother's bed, but what really surprised him was that Dean didn't say anything more. No yelling, no shouting, no threats, he just had a silly grin on his face like he knew something that Sam didn't.

Teddy crawled out from under the bed. "I heard Dean yelling. I take it he found the corn flakes."

"Oh, yeah," he replied. "Big time."

"Did he hurt you?" Teddy asked.

Sam was shocked at the question. "Of course not! I told you. He's not like that."

"But the yelling…" Teddy replied.

Sam shook his head. "Yeah, he was mad and yelled, but all he did was make me help him clean it up."

"You mean he treated you as his slave and made you clean it _all_ up." Teddy argued.

"No," Sam explained, but his patience was beginning to wear thin. "Both he and Dad helped me."

Teddy looked thoughtful. "Well, that surprises me."

Sam pulled the blanket up and let himself relax into the bed. "It doesn't surprise me. Now, let's get some more sleep."

"Okay," the bear said as he curled up next to Sam, who fell asleep in a matter of minutes and slept soundly through the rest of the night.

The next morning, Sam got up and went to the kitchen. Dean was already there, eating a bowl of corn flakes.

"Where's Dad?" he asked.

"Out," Dean answered. "He left early this morning."

There was an empty bowl sitting on the counter, and Sam followed his brother's example and poured himself a bowl of cereal. He added a spoonful of sugar and some milk. Then he carefully carried the bowl to the table and sat down. He put a spoonful in his mouth and made a terrible face.

"What is _wrong_ with the cereal?" Sam exclaimed.

Dean shrugged. "Nothing wrong with mine."

Sam shook his head. "Mine tastes horrible. It's like eating…" The light dawned, and he crossed back to the counter and checked the sugar bowl. He spun back around and accused. "You put salt in the sugar bowl."

Dean placed a hand on his chest and gave Sam the most innocent look he could muster. "Who, me? Why would I do such a thing?"

"Because of last night," Sam answered.

Dean began to laugh. "You wanted to play with corn flakes; I played with your corn flakes."

"Where's the real sugar?" Sam asked as he dumped the salted cereal in the garbage disposal and rinsed his bowl.

Dean pointed to the pantry. "It's in there."

Sam found the real sugar and made himself a new bowl of cereal. "That wasn't very nice."

"And putting the stuff in my bed was?" Dean shot back.

"At least you didn't eat it," Sam grumbled. "That was gross."

Dean snorted. "That'll teach you to start a prank war."

Sam shot him an irritated look. "You pull pranks on me all the time."

"All right," Dean conceded. "I'll stop pulling pranks if you do."

"Deal," Sam answered.

Dean extended his arm. "Shake on it?"

Sam reached out and took Dean's hand but yelped and pulled it back in reaction to the jolt from the joy buzzer. "Hey! You said no more pranks."

Dean laughed out loud. "It's not a prank…it's a gag."

"Same thing," Sam gripped. "You're just mean." He stomped out of the kitchen.

Dean was still laughing. "Wait, Sam…don't go…it was just a joke…come back."

Sam went back to his room and slammed his door. He grumbled under his breath. "Can't believe…thinks he's so funny…big jerk…never trust…"

Teddy crawled out from under the bed. "Sam, is something wrong?"

Sam pulled a pair of socks from his dresser and slammed the drawer closed. "It's Dean. He's being a jerk."

"Oh, really," Teddy replied smugly.

In his anger, Sam didn't notice Teddy's tone. "He tried to make nice and then pulled another prank after I let my guard down."

"So, he did get you back for the prank," Teddy stated the obvious.

"Shut up," Sam snapped. "I should've never listened to you in the first place."

"Don't be mad at me, Sammy," the bear begged. "I only did what I thought was best. You needed to know what your brother is really like."

Sam's anger deflated. "You're still wrong. Even though I'm mad, Dean didn't really hurt me."

"But he lied to you," Teddy countered. "That proves you can't trust him."

Sam thought for a moment. "I guess you're right about that."

"So, what are you going to do?" Teddy asked.

Sam shrugged. "I'll just have to be more careful around him."

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation, and Dean stuck his head in. "You still mad?"

He rolled his eyes. "What do you think?"

Dean opened the door fully. "It was just a joke. You need to lighten up a little."

Sam gave Dean an angry stare. "Is there something you wanted?"

Dean shook his head and sighed. "Dad left us a list of chores to be done today. I need your help."

"Fine," Sam huffed. Even though he was mad at Dean, Sam wasn't willing to risk his father's wrath. "I'll work, but I don't have to talk to you." The brothers did their chores in silence. Then Sam retreated to his room to read a book.

Later that night, Dean was getting ready for bed. He pulled back his sheets and inspected it for tampering. Seeing none, he climbed into bed, but when he laid his head on the pillow, it gave way with a poof, and he felt moisture seeping through the pillowcase. He sat up quickly and peered into it. "Shaving cream? Yuck!" He stomped down the hall and entered Sam's room without knocking. "You're just asking for it, aren't you?"

Sam looked up in surprise. "What are you talking about?"

Dean held his arms out in exasperation. "The shaving cream in the pillowcase? Ring a bell?"

Sam shook his head. "No, it doesn't. You're crazy."

John suddenly appeared in the doorway. "Now, what is going on?"

Dean spun around to face his dad. "Sam filled my pillowcase with shaving cream, and after we called a truce this morning."

"I did not!" Sam exclaimed. "I don't know nothing about shaving cream, and look who's talking, Mr. Hide-a-Joy-Buzzer-in-my-Hand-when-We-Shake-on-the-Truce."

"Enough boys!" Their father demanded. "Sam, go take care of the pillow."

"But, Dad," Sam argued. "I didn't do anything."

"Then who did? Dad?" Dean challenged.

Fire flashed in Sam's eyes. "Maybe you did it just to get me in trouble."

"Oh, please, like I would…" Dean began only to be interrupted by John.

"I said that _is_ enough," John thundered. "Sam, do as you're told." Sam quickly left the room without further argument. Turning to Dean, he continued. "And if I find out that you did do this, you'll be in your own peck of trouble."

"Yes, sir," Dean nodded and left Sam's room.

Sam avoided Dean as much as possible over the next two days. He knew that he hadn't played the prank on his brother, and it wasn't fair that he had to clean it up. He had thought about it, and the only conclusion he could reach was that no matter how much Dean denied it, he had to have played the prank on himself just to get him in trouble. The part that really upset him was the fact that their father had believed Dean. It was obvious that Teddy was right about trusting him, and in light of his father's reaction, he might also be right about trusting his dad either.

Sam and Teddy sat in their room. Teddy tried to comfort Sam. "I'm sorry it came to this. I did try to warn you. Even though you can't trust them, I'll always be here for you. It's the least I can do for my best friend."

Sam sighed. "I'm glad that I have you to talk to. I don't know…"

A dripping Dean appeared in his door, and Teddy slipped under the bed. "You just had to keep it up didn't you? Well, this means war, now."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Now what are you talking about?"

"The water bomb in the laundry room cabinet," Dean replied angrily. "Don't try and play innocent."

"I'm not playing," Sam snapped. "I really don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, please," Dean argued. "I've been outside for the last hour. You were the only one in the house to do it."

"I'm telling you, I didn't do it," he reiterated his innocence.

Dean thought about arguing more but decided it was getting him nowhere. "Just remember, you started this." He spun on his heals and stalked away.

The next week at the Winchester house was filled with pranks. Some were against Sam, but most were against Dean which was confusing to Sam. He had only managed to pull two pranks on his brother. Once, he had swapped out his brother's underwear for a size too small, and Dean spent two days dealing with constant wedgies before he realized what had happened. The other prank of Sam's that had succeeded was when he put some cherry kool-aid in the shower head. Even though he had tried to scrub it off, he still retained a rosy blush to his skin. He had tried to "penny" Dean's door, but that backfired when his brother heard him.

Dean got in his share of pranks in too, various water bombs, short sheeting Sam's bed, putting saran wrap over the toilet, the loosened cap on the salt shaker, the gag poppers on the cupboard doors, and making Sam's door stick by shoving wet spaghetti around it and letting it dry overnight.

Then there were those that Dean blamed his brother for, but he wasn't responsible for, like ping pong balls over the door, the tampered-with kitchen faucet that sprayed outward, resetting Dean's alarm clock to go off at 2:47 for three mornings in a row, Jell-O put in his shoes, itching powder in his underwear, and the words "pink lady" were written on the back of one of his t-shirts.

After putting up with the boys for a week, John became disgusted with them. What he couldn't understand was Sam's behavior. It was normal for Dean to play pranks, but it just didn't seem to fit into Sam's personality. It was almost like he was a different child ever since they had moved into this house. So, he decided to do the one thing he should have done before moving into the house. He decided to investigate the house's past, and what he found disturbed him.

After supper was cleaned up that night when Sam went to his room to read, John took the opportunity to speak to Dean. "I think we're going to have to move."

"Move? Why?" Dean asked.

John slid some papers across the table to his son. "I found some unsettling things about this house." Dean gazed over the papers while his father continued speaking. "Apparently, about thirty-two years ago there was a murder-suicide in this house. A sixteen-year old boy shot and killed his ten-year old brother."

Dean shook his head. "Does anyone know why?"

John sighed. "According to the police report, the mother said that the boys were always playing jokes on each other and that it was just a joke that went horribly wrong. She figured the intense guilt was why the older boy committed suicide."

John paused for a moment, and Dean looked at him. "I feel a 'but' coming."

"But…" his father began. "About ten years after the incident, their sister came forward and claimed that it wasn't an accident. She was fourteen at the time of the shooting. She told police that Steve had told her that their father had molested him since he was eight. His father's attention had diminished in the last couple of months, and he was concerned that their father was molesting Andy. He didn't want Andy to have to deal with what he went through. He didn't figure that anyone would believe him, and the only way to protect Andy was to kill him. Then he killed himself to avoid the story coming out."

"You think that either Andy or Steve is still in the house?" Dean asked.

"There's something here," John replied. "Since the murder, there were two other cases before us when families with two sons moved in the house, and the younger one's personality changes, and he starts pulling pranks. They keep escalating until the older boy gets hurt…seriously hurt."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You think I'm in danger?"

John shrugged. "I'm not willing to take that chance."

Dean dropped the papers on the table. "Why don't we just take care of the ghost? You know, burn the body? Won't the problem continue if we just leave?"

John gathered the papers. "Well, that's a problem. The bodies were cremated, and the ashes were scattered over a nearby lake. Besides, we don't know if one of them is the cause or if they were actually the first victims. It could be a demon or a type of ghoul, or a ghost that's attached to the house or land."

Dean blew out a heavy breath. "We can't just leave and let the following renters experience the same problems."

"I wasn't intending to," John answered.

"So, what do we do?" Dean asked.

"I've already performed an exorcism earlier this afternoon in case it was a demon," John explained. "But, I didn't get any of the usual resistance that would be expected."

"So, that's why you sent me to the store earlier," Dean smirked.

John nodded. "And I sent Sam to the park. Anyways, if the pranks continue, then we know it's not a demon, and that it's a spirit of some kind."

"But if the bodies have already been burned, how do we fight it?" he questioned.

"We find whatever the spirit has attached itself to and burn it," John replied. "And if it's the house, well…"

Dean nodded. "I understand, but what do we tell Sam? He was really excited about having a normal life for a while."

John shook his head. "He'll just have to roll with the punches, like we do."

"But he's only nine," Dean lamented.

John sighed. "I hope you know that this isn't the life that I had wanted for you boys when you were babies, but life changed those hopes and dreams when your mother was murdered."

Dean sighed also. "Mom's death changed everything."

John and Dean spent the rest of the evening in the living room. The TV was on, but John was reading a "Guns and Ammo" magazine. Dean spent the time half watching the TV and playing solitaire. Finally, at eleven o'clock, Dean headed to his room. As he entered, he suddenly found himself falling. He cried out in pain as his forehead connected with the footboard of his bed.

John heard Dean cry out and ran to his room. "What happened?" He also found himself falling but was able to pull his feet under him and righted himself. Looking back at the door, he saw a string stretched tightly across the opening about two inches above the floor.

Sam appeared at the door. "Dad? Dean?"

"Stay there!" John ordered. He turned his attention to his oldest child who was trying to sit up with blood dripping from a cut on his forehead. He grabbed a t-shirt that was lying on the bed and pressed it against the cut. "Dean, you with me?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," Dean gasped slightly. "Man, that really hurts. What the hell happened?"

John turned and yanked on the string, pulling it off from two nails that had been pounded in the door frame. Holding it up for Dean to see, he said. "You tripped. This was stretched across the doorway." The two shared a knowing look.

"Dad?" Sam asked tentatively.

John turned to Sam and showed him the string. "Did you put this across Dean's door?"

Sam shook his head vigorously. "No, Dad, I swear."

John sighed and kept his voice even. "Why don't you go back to your room while I get Dean cleaned up."

"But he's going to be okay, isn't he?" The nervousness was still in Sam's voice.

"Yeah, he's going to be okay," John reassured Sam. "I'll come talk to you in a bit, okay?"

Sam nodded. "Okay." He followed his dad's order and went to his room.

John helped Dean into the bathroom. After washing the cut, he looked at it good. "It doesn't look too deep. I think a butterfly bandage will take care of it, but you also have a good size goose egg too. Let me know if the pain gets worse." John sprayed an antibacterial spray on the cut and then closed it up with a bandage.

Dean hissed as the spray stung in the cut. He tried to give his dad a confident smile. "I guess the exorcism didn't work."

John gave a sarcastic laugh. "Yeah, I guess we can say that it's definitely a vengeful spirit."

"And no way to know what it's connected too," Dean added.

John just shook his head. "Go, get some rest. I'll talk to you later."

Meanwhile, Sam had gone back to his room. "What's going on?" Teddy asked.

"Dean's been hurt," he answered.

"Did he trip over the string?" Teddy remarked.

Sam's eyes widened in surprise. "How'd you know about the string?"

"I put it there," the bear answered like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Realization began to dawn on Sam. "Wait a minute. Are you responsible for all those pranks on Dean?"

Teddy hopped up on the bed. "Of course."

Sam shook his head. "But I've been getting in trouble for those. Why didn't you tell me?"

"What's the big deal?" Teddy was confused by Sam's reaction. "It's normal to play jokes on a big brother."

"Not when he gets hurt," Sam declared angrily. He picked up the bear and threw him in the closet, slamming the door behind it.

"Sa-am-my, let me out," Teddy called from the closet.

"Shut up, Teddy," Sam hissed. "I'm really mad at you."

"I'm sorry, Sammy," the voice called again. "I won't do it again. I promise."

Sam shook his head even though Teddy couldn't see him. "I'm going to bed. I'll think about it in the morning."

A little bit later, John stuck his head into Sam's room. He saw that Sam was already in bed and looked like he was asleep. He ducked back out the door and decided to wait until the morning to talk to him. When Sam heard his father leave, he breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't wanted to face his dad tonight because he wasn't sure how to explain what had transpired between him and Teddy.

It was a little after two in the morning, and Dean was woken by a pounding headache. He tried to ignore it and go back to sleep, but after about ten minutes he gave up and went to get some more Tylenol. He knew that he really should wait until after three to take some more medicine, but his head already hurt pretty bad. He even thought for a moment about telling his dad, but he decided to take the Tylenol and if it didn't get better in a half hour then he would tell his dad. After taking the pills, he headed back to his room. He paused outside Sam's door when he heard his brother talking.

"…told you. It wasn't funny, and you have to be punished," his brother was speaking.

"But I said I was sorry. Please, Sam, let me out. It's dark in here. I don't like it," Dean heard an unknown voice talking to his brother.

"What the hell?" Dean thought to himself.

"I said no!" Sam was adamant. "I should have never let you out of the closet in the first place."

The unknown voice grew ominous. "Let me out, Sam. I'm getting angry. You won't like me when I'm angry."

The pieces began to fall into place in Dean's mind. There was something in Sam's closet, and he had let it out. That's why he quit complaining about the voice. That was also the time that the pranks started. There had to be a connection, and it scared Dean. He rushed to his Dad's room. He shook his dad awake. "Dad! Dad! There's something in Sam's closet."

John looked groggily at Dean. "Dean? What are you talking about?"

"I heard Sam talking to something in his closet." Dean's explanation came out in a rush. "It was threatening him."

Dean's words sunk in, and John quickly jumped from his bed. He flung open the closet door and grabbed his shot gun from the far corner. He also grabbed some salt shells from the box on the shelf. In a matter of seconds, he had the gun loaded and was heading down the hall to Sam's room.

While Dean went to get their father, the conversation between Teddy and Sam continued. "Why are you being so mean to me?" he asked. "I thought you wanted to be my friend like you were to Andy."

The voice from the closet grew more menacing. "You stupid idiot! I _AM_ Andy! I _will_ get my revenge!"

"Revenge? For what?" Sam was getting more scared as Teddy/Andy talked.

"He killed me!" Teddy/Andy explained in a low growl. "My big brother Stevie murdered me. I don't know why, but I swore revenge on every older brother. I never want a boy to go through what I did."

"You can't hurt Dean. I won't let you." Sam pulled the gun from under his pillow. With a shaking hand, he headed over to the closet door and opened it.

Teddy/Andy looked at Sam holding the gun and laughed. "That won't do you any good. It's not even loaded. It never was. Your dad lied to you…again!"

From behind him, Sam heard his dad's voice command. "Sam, get down!" He knew by his dad's tone not to ask questions and threw himself flat to the floor. He heard a gunshot resound in his room.

John rushed to the closet and picked up the bear and a big handful of stuffing. Turning to his sons, he told them. "Pick up the rest of this stuffing and meet me in the back yard." Then he left the room.

Dean and Sam went to the closet to do their dad's bidding. "Great, it's scattered all over these clothes on the floor."

"Take the clothes," Sam told his brother.

Dean shook his head. "You don't understand. Dad's gonna burn that thing along with all his stuffing."

"You don't understand," he retorted. "I'd rather lose the clothes than to risk that think coming back."

Dean thought for a moment. "You're right. Better safe than sorry." He carefully folded the clothes in on themselves to form a small bundle and carried it out to his father.

John was in the back yard with the fire pit open. The bear was in it and he had doused it with more salt and then lighter fluid. He looked at the bundle of clothes that Dean carried. "What's this?"

"We didn't want to risk missing a piece," Dean explained.

John nodded. "Good thinking." He took the bundle from Dean and put it in the pit. He added even some more salt just for good measure. He sprayed more lighter fluid on the additional pile and then threw in a lit match. The three Winchesters watched it burn.

Sam looked up at his dad. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you about the bear."

John gave Sam's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "It worked out. We found out in time, but tomorrow you're going to start training, too. So, you know what to look for."

Dean didn't even consider arguing that Sam was too young. He was just grateful that he would be learning not to take these things for granted.

John continued talking. "You boys go back to bed. I want to make sure this stuff burns completely."

"Yes, sir," Dean replied, but Sam just nodded.

As they walked into the house, John heard Sam ask, "Can I sleep in your room, Dean? I don't want to be alone."

Dean plopped an arm around his brother's shoulder. "Sure you can, Sam. Just as long as you don't bring a stuffed animal."

"I won't, Dean," Sam replied. "Believe me, I won't."

John smiled at his two boys. They may never know the true reason behind Andy's and Stevie's death, but John was glad that his boys leaned on each other. They would need each other as their lives unfolded in front of them.

Author's note – Well, we hope that you enjoyed our little piece of fluff. We want to send a HUGE thank you out to our new beta, Lillehafrue. We couldn't have gotten this done with out you. Thanks again for taking the time to read our work.


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